


Enemy McGee

by John_Q_Sample



Category: The Incredible Hulk (1978), The Incredible Hulk (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Apartment, Doctors, Gen, Happy AU(?), Hitchhiking, Journalism, Memory Loss, Regaining memory, Smoking, Writing, damn those investigative reporters, in reference to "Mystery Man", well it was intended to b gen but it isn't the straightest thing i've written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 21:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15693732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Q_Sample/pseuds/John_Q_Sample
Summary: Kind of an AU of the episode "Mystery Man" where it's just...happier? Bc I'm sad and gay.McGee flies "John Doe" over to a doctor that can help him. Between visits, they're spending their time at McGee's apartment. John Doe doesn't really want to leave, and he's interested by how his conversations with McGee bring back odd memories of his past.





	Enemy McGee

Jack McGee unlocks and opens the apartment door. “Well, you heard the doctor,” he says as he lets the guest in. “It may take weeks, months to get your memory back.”

“I really don’t mind,” comes the quiet response from the ever-polite John Doe.

Of course it isn’t his real name, but there’s nothing else to call him by at the moment. Even his name fell victim to his memory loss. Anyway, the man looks like a John, or at least Jack figures he probably does under all those bandages.

“But somehow I can’t help but get the feeling that this has  _ something _ to do with the story you’re trying to write,” John adds, smiling lightly.

Jack shakes his head. “Well, yes, I’m worried about the story, but that’s definitely not the sole reason I want to help you. If anything, it’s more because you said you recognized me when we first saw each other. You could be a close friend, and I don’t even know it yet.”

“You really think so?”

Jack shrugs. “Why not? Your voice sounds familiar, but it’s hard to tell who you really are with all the bandages on your face.”

“Well, the doctor says I can take them off in about a week if everything goes well. I suppose we’ll figure it out then, huh?”

“I suppose so.”

John walks over to the couch. “And what you were saying earlier, I’m fine sleeping in the living room. You stay in the bedroom.”

“You sure, John? I really don’t mind.”

“No, I think I’d prefer to stay out here. Honestly, anything is an improvement from the hospital, and I’m guessing there’s probably a desk in the bedroom that you need to use anyway. Just bring in some blankets and pillows, and I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll do that. You stay here.”

The couch is easily converted into something like a bed, and John is grateful for the new place to sleep. He doesn’t recall having a home, so this is a massive improvement. Jack brings in takeout for dinner so that John doesn’t have to go to the restaurant all bandaged up. They eat around a small, square table with one lightbulb hanging over it as the radio plays the news behind them. It’s nothing of interest, just discussions on weather and what planets may or may not be visible in the sky tonight.

“Why don’t you tell me more about your job?” John suggests as he cuts up his food. “I really don’t have anything to say about myself since I don’t remember it...and maybe you’ll help with my memory.”

“You think so? Well, where should I start?” Jack sighs, leaning back into the wooden chair. It creaks loudly when he does it. “The Hulk first appeared about two years ago, I think. I didn’t see him. There was a crashed car, footprints going down into the mud...”

John is struck with a flash of memory. Rain pouring down onto a dark street, John behind the wheel of a car. He’s grumbling to himself about something. When he blinks, it’s gone, just like that.

“And there were two eyewitness reports, a girl and her father,” Jack says. “If I remember correctly, the girl was so scared of the thing that she nearly drowned trying to get away from him, and the father thought he was attacking and tried to shoot at him.”

“And there were two eyewitness reports, a girl and her father,” Jack says. “The girl was scared of the thing, trying to get away from him, and the father thought he was attacking her and tried to shoot at her.”

“But you say you didn’t see him?” John asks.

“No,I didn’t, not until the next day. There was an explosion at a laboratory, the one where Dr Elaina Marks and Dr David Banner were working.”

John furrows his brow and freezes with a piece of chicken hanging off his fork. It slips off and falls back into his mashed potatoes. He jumps at the minor sound and goes to scoop it up again.

“Sorry. Banner, Marks, I think I know those names,” John says.

“Well, maybe you read up on their studies. Or even worked with them.”

John washes down the piece of chicken with a drink of water. “What were they studying?”

“The hidden strengths of humans,” Jack says. “You know, mothers lifting cars off of their kids and things like that. I didn’t get to learn much of it. They weren’t exactly willing to join an interview, you see.”

“Do you think we could talk to—” John freezes as a few half-formed memories return. “No...They died, didn’t they?”

Jack nods. “You really remember that?”

“I must have read an article or something.”

“The Hulk is to blame for their deaths, you know,” Jack says.

Under his bandages, John furrows his brow and looks up at Jack. “What do you mean?”

“John, I was actually there when it happened. There was a sudden fire at the laboratory. Dr Banner was outside talking to me, but he went back in to save Dr Marks. I nearly blacked out before I could even try to stop him. Then the Hulk came out with Dr Marks. We’re not entirely sure what happened, but I believe he must have killed Dr Banner when he entered the lab, then brought Dr Marks out for whatever reason and finished the job...Maybe she was trying to stop Dr Banner’s murder, or even the other way around.”

“No, that isn’t right.”

“Pardon?”

“I mean...” John sighs and puts his shaky hands flat on the table to still them. “I, I don’t know, really, but that just...doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain it.”

“I know how you feel,” Jack says with a shrug as he picks up his glass. “But until we figure out the truth, that’s all we got.”

“Mr McGee...”

“Jack.”

“Um, Jack...Jack, I don’t know why, but I feel like some of my memories are attached to these events. The Hulk, I mean. I remember him, sometimes.”

“Well, he’s a hard to miss creature,” Jack says. “You must be remembering the crash.”

John shakes his head. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s not just the crash. There’s...fires...I remember a bar, too...”

“He’s showed up in several places across the country in the past few years. You could have been there too while they happened. I can’t really confirm it, all things considered.”

John brings a hand to his face, then lets it drop and sighs. He returns to cutting up his food and takes a few bites. Trying to avoid getting food on his bandages, it’s taking him a lot longer to eat than Jack, and talking isn’t helping that much either.

“What are some other places he showed up in?” John asks quietly.

Jack shrugs. “Lots of places. A few areas in California. Las Vegas. Oregon. Once he even appeared at an elementary school.”

“An elementary school?”

“You don’t happen to remember that, do you?”

“I...think I was the groundskeeper at an elementary school once,” John murmurs, with the vague memories of planting flowers while children run around him. “I don’t know if it was that exact school.”

“You seem to have a lot of experience in a lot of jobs,” Jack says.

“Really?”

“Well, from what you’ve told me, anyway.”

“I wish I could remember what I actually did,” John says.

“Well, with this doctor, someday you will,” Jack says.

John nods. “Thank you for all you’re doing, by the way. It’s...really nice. I don’t remember anyone, but I hope it turns out we were friends before this.”

“You know what, John? I hope so, too.”

*

After hours of frenzied writing on his typewriter, Jack can’t handle it anymore. He collapses into his chair and sighs loudly. A peek out the windows confirms what he already knew to be true: he’s been spending too much time on this article. It’s already pitch black outside, and he’s not even working on a part of his main project! He’s already published the information on the crash and the status of the victims. Once he finishes trudging through this hopefully brief article on a recent robbery, he’ll be finished for the rest of the week, unless some big emergency that the other journalists can’t cover—or the return of the Hulk if he’s lucky—happens.

With another sigh, Jack pushes himself up to his feet. He figures he’ll check on his guest, get a glass of water, and then go out for a smoke. He grabs shoves a lighter and a box of cigarettes into his pocket before walking into the kitchen, all while making sure to be slow and quiet so as not to wake John.

John is on the couch where Jack left him after dinner. But he’s not sleeping peacefully; Jack grows concerned at John’s panicked shouts in his sleep. Stepping forward, he grabs John’s shoulder and shakes him gently until he wakes up, looking around in confusion.

“Jack?” he whispers, confusion written clearly on what little Jack can see of his face.

“It’s me,” Jack says quietly. “Are you alright? You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

John pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I, I, uh...I guess I was.”

“What happened?”

John runs his fingers through his hair. “It...was about a car crash. I think. But it wasn’t the one I was in that landed me in the hospital. I was driving this time.” John sighs shakily, hesitating and looking around the room in fright. “Jack, I...think I used to be married.”

Jack starts. “You were married? Maybe your wife would have reported your disapeparance.”

“No, Jack...I think my wife died.” John wraps his arms around himself. “I remember her face, but I don’t even remember her name...” He shudders. “Or maybe I was married twice?”

“Could be,” Jack says. “Is that all you remember?”

“I don’t even know if it was real. It was just...” John stops and looks up. “Jack, what are you doing up?”

“Writing,” Jack says with a vague gesture towards his room. “I went out to take a break. Want a smoke?”

“I don’t think I smoke,” John says.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be out on the balcony if you need me, or if...you have another nightmare like that.”

John nods. “Thanks, Jack.”

“Don’t mention it.”

John’s eyes follow Jack as he walks out to the balcony. He keeps the curtains open. John watches him light a cigarette and smoke it while leaning against the fence of the balcony.

Suddenly, John desperately wishes he knew where Jack come from. Where all those memories of the Hulk come from. Where these nightmares are coming from.

He has another flashback, brief. A woman with blond, curled hair and a lab coat talking to him gently, showing him some charts.

What was her name again? It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t make himself recall it.

He jumps up and stumbles out to the patio.

“Jack, do you have archived newspapers or something?” John asks.

“I always make sure to keep a copy of the newspaper articles with me,” Jack says. “Why?”

“I’d like to read them, please.”

Jack nods and flicks the cigarette onto the ground before crushing it under his shoe. He gestures for John to follow him and walks into the bedroom, where he directs John to a large cabinet.

“Wow, you’ve worked at the paper for a long time, huh?”

“You could say that,” Jack says. He leans over and pulls out a basket of newspaper clippings. “And here’s where I keep articles on the Hulk for reference.”

“Really?” John says as he takes the basket. It’s heavy enough for him to nearly drop it. “Wow, Jack, I didn’t know you had all this.”

Jack shrugs as he walks back to his desk. “You can look through them if you want. Just put them back where you found them if you don’t mind.”

John sits at the edge of the bed and places the basket beside him. He begins searching through the clippings and occasionally taking some out to read through them. Oddly enough, he feels like he can recall each event that the article talks about.

“Jack, are you the only person looking for the Hulk?”

“I doubt it,” Jack says, not looking up from the typewriter. “Any reason why?”

“I don’t know why, but I remember all these articles,” John says.

At this, Jack pauses. He turns around and looks over the back of his chair. “You think you might have been looking for the Hulk as well?”

“It’s possible,” John says. “I really don’t know anymore.”

“Well, it would make sense. Maybe he hurt someone you cared about, and you were hunting him for it.”

“You think so?”

“Unless you’re secretly working for a rival paper company,” Jack says with a dry laugh.

“There’s something missing...”

“I’d say there’s a lot missing right now, John.”

John begins digging thorugh the article clippings again. Finally, at the bottom of the pile, he finds it: the article written about the deaths of Dr Banner and Dr Marks. He sinks back into the bed as he looks over the article. It’s larger than most of them, with a big picture of the two scientists who had died. John runs his fingers along the images of their faces.

That’s when he realizes Jack is staring at him. John looks over confusedly, mouth agape with questions dying before he can even voice them.

“John, are you okay?”

“I, I...”

Jack gets up and walks over to see the article John is viewing.

“Oh,” Jack says quietly.

“Jack, I...There’s something...” John shudders deeply. “I definitely remember these faces.”

“Well, remember what we were talking about earlier? How you might have worked with them, or just followed their work?”

“It feels...close,” John says. “Like I knew them well.” He closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose. “It’s so frustrating!”

Jack pats his back gently. “I can’t imagine how it must feel. Look, if reading these articles is helping your memories...”

“No, I think it’s just making things worse,” John says, putting the newspaper clippings back into the basket. “It’s distressing.”

“It’s late,” Jack says. “You should be getting some sleep. Remember what the doctor told you?”

“Right, yeah,” John murmurs.

He puts the basket back with the other newspapers and starts to head out of the room. Then he stops, lingering at the door. He looks back at Jack, already returning to his desk.

“You should getting to bed, too, don’t you think?” John says.

Jack waves his head carelessly. “Don’t worry about me. I just have a couple hundred more words to finish of this article.”

*

John is silent in the ride back from the second doctor visit.

The doctor knows what he’s doing, and he’s definitely a positive influence on John’s slow attempt to regain memories. Currently, John’s torn between being happy at the memories of his first wife, Laura, or saddened by what happened to her.

But there’s something more.

He remembers Jack. A lot. Before his hospitlization, the two must have known each other. But they weren’t close, no. The memories are of him running, escaping the man,  _ hiding his face _ . He remembers being forced into the back of a car, fearing for his safety, only to be met with the greatest relief: Jack, also in the back of the car, was  _ unconscious _ .

He knows they were not friends. But what were they?

What was he doing running from an investigative reporter?

The ride is painfully silent as John stews alone in his thoughts. He can’t express them to Jack, not yet. There’s got to be a good reason for all these memories! Maybe it’s something related to the newspaper that he works for. Maybe John is a criminal, and he just doesn’t remember it!

Yet all these memories seem to circle back to the Hulk. John remembers a lake, a massive green hand splashing the water in confusion at the horrifying reflection on the surface of it...

What  _ is _ the Hulk?

Finally working up the courage to talk, John asks, “Jack, how long did you say you were chasing the Hulk?”

“Two years. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

“Are you sure?”

John frowns, pursing his lips. “I was just thinking about some memories I had gotten back, about that creature. I don’t know.”

Jack glances over at him. “You don’t seem so well.”

“I just...the memories of Laura, you know.”

Jack nods. “How about this, John. Instead of the normal takeout, I go get a pizza and some fancy wine.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t mind at all. Anyway, I imagine it’d be a pretty depressing life all cooped up in an apartment building.”

“I’m not particularly in the mood to go about town yet,” John says, gesturing towards his bandaged face. “Anyway, it’s much the same lifestyle you’re living.”

“Ah, but you see, John, I am a  _ writer _ ,” Jack says. “It’s supposed to be like that for me. You’re a Hulk-catching, gardening, piloting scientist. You lived an exciting life.”

“Potentially,” John says. “Oh, another memory I had—I worked in an arcade.”

“My God, John, you really do get around!”

Jack comes through with the pizza and the wine anyway. Secretly, John is glad for it, even as he makes a whole deal of telling Jack that he really shouldn’t have gone through the trouble. Jack has the radio playing music this time, old songs from the fifties, and he ends up getting a little drunker than intended. John can’t say he minds listening to Jack sing along to the songs and doesn’t bother correcting him on the lyrics.

The night ends with John all but dragging Jack to bed and forcing him to get some rest. But as John finds himself falling asleep across the foot of the bed, he suddenly can’t seem to remember what he was so worried about earlier.

*

John wakes with the usual start, followed by confusion and a good deal of worry. He looks over and finds Jack passed out across the pillows, probably a foot away from him.

Huh.

That’s when the phone starts ringing.

Reflexively, John jumps up to go answer it. He presses the receiver to his ear and says, “Hello, John Doe here. Jack McGee can’t reach the phone at the moment, but if you have a message...”

“Oh, good, I was actually hoping to talk to you, sir,” the doctor on the other end says. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m doing well. I just wanted to check in on you. Are you taking your medications?”

“I am, yes.”

“How’s the doctor that McGee is sending you to?”

“Wonderful,” John says. “I’ve regained a good amount of memories through the two meetings I’ve had so far. And I’m talking with Jack a lot, too. It seems to help.”

“That’s good. If there are any complications, feel free to call.”

“Don’t worry. I will.”

“Oh, and one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I think it would be safe to take off the bandages now.”

John feels a flush of, what, excitement? Panic?

And another memory of hiding his face from the very man he’s living with.

“Since you’ve been wearing them all the time since hospitalization, the injuries would have healed well by now. I’m guessing you’re excited to have them off.”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” John says, with a mixture of emotions that do not match his statement. “Thank you so much, doctor.”

“It’s no problem.”

John puts the phone down and stands there numbly for a few seconds with his hand still on top of the phone.

Jack walks into the room slowly. “John, I think this is the worst headache I’ve ever gotten.” He pauses. “Did someone call?”

John turns around. “It was the doctor. He, uh, wanted to see if this...memory doctor was working well.”

“Oh, okay,” Jack says. He sits down tiredly at the table. “Wow, did you clean up the place?”

“Tried to,” John says. “Look, I’ll make breakfast this morning, seeing as you’re so put out right now. Do you need an aspirin?”

“That’d be wonderful,” Jack murmurs.

John goes into the bathroom. He pauses at the mirror, at the reflection of his bandaged face. It’s dingy now, and his face itches like hell.

Sighing, he grabs a bottle of aspirin from behind the mirror. Going out into the kitchen, he pours a glass of tap water and hands the both of them to Jack.

“How about I make pancakes?” John suggests as he looks through the cabinets.

“Do you know how to make them?”

“I think so, yes.”

A quarter of the pancakes end up burnt, and another quarter of them so flimsy that they fall apart at any attempt to eat them. But they make a fine breakfast, even without maple syrup to accompany it. They eat in silence, Jack occupied with his hangover and John with the news he just received.

Then, slowly, they clean up the plates and silverware and head to their respective rooms.

John leans back on the couch and puts his hands underneath his head. He stares up at the ceiling and sighs.

The bandages can come off. But does he want them to? All those memories with Jack...

“John, I have an odd question,” Jack asks, poking his head through the doorway of his bedroom.

“Hmm?”

“Did we sleep in the same room last night?”

*

John stands in front of the mirror once more. He glances back at the closed door, then at his reflection again. He’ll be glad to see his face again. Feel it. Scratch away the annoying itches. Shower without having to avoid getting water onto his bandages. Eat or brush his teeth without worrying so much about it.

Slowly, he brings his hands up to the bandages. His fingers find the bottom of it, around his neck. He pulls at the edges lightly, then lifts the bandages. They rub across his already sore face, but he almost enjoys the sensation; it’s a signal of his soon-to-be freedom.

He pulls the bandages away from his face and stares at the confused, tired expression before him. He’s seen this face before. In mirrors, yes, but also in photographs. A wedding photograph of him and Laura. Photographs on ID cards.

_ A face in the newspaper _ .

With a shallow gaps, he grips the rim of the sink to keep himself from falling. His legs shake dangerously.

David Banner.

Is he really David Banner?

The face brings back so many memories, but it’s not enough to connect them together. David Banner is dead. Is he some previously unheard of look-alike? Did he fake his death?

Fake his death...

He recalls a gamma radiation overdose. Tests done on himself in multiple locations.

But what do they mean? What was he trying to do?

“My God, Banner!”

The voice is too real for it to be part of a flashback. He whirls around so quickly that it makes him want to throw up. Jack is at the door staring at him with an absolutely bewildered expression.

“You’re alive,” Jack whispers. “John, David...”

“Jack, please,” he says, putting up his shaking hands. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong with him. “Please, don’t get near me. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going on—”

“What’s wrong?” Jack asks, silently refusing to leave. “Your eyes are white.”

Looking back, he sees this is true.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” he breathes, collapsing onto the sink. His voice doesn’t sound human. “Jack, for God’s sake,  _ get out of here _ !”

*

He lies down on his back in the middle of the living room. Even not seeing it, he recognizese the carpet. He realizes he is shirtless and presses his hands to his face. Tears streak down it as the memories come back to him. He knows who he is now.

He is David Banner.

And he is the Hulk.

Looking around the living room, the first thing he sees is Jack, sitting on the couch. Only the couch is several feet away, standing right against the kitchen table, which is not in the place it usually is.

David nearly collapses back onto the carpet. This prompts Jack to stand up and walk over to him. Slowly, he sits down on the floor and crosses his legs.

“Did I hurt you? Did I break anything?” David asks as he finally forces himself to sit up properly.

“No, you just kicked the couch and slammed it into the kitchen table,” Jack says. “I’m afraid the floors got a bit scratched up in the process.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“You don’t have to. Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on here? Assuming you...remember?”

David wipes his eyes. He’s not sure whether or not he’s still crying. “I...The doctor called and said that I could remove the bandages. But...I had been regaining a lot of memories about you, mostly just...avoiding you.”

“I can imagine,” Jack murmurs.

“So I decided to put it off,” David continues. “When I finally took the bandages off...I was recalling a lot of memories, but not enough to really know what was going on. And then you came in...I guess that did it, and my memories just...came back when I returned. Jack, I’m really sorry if I did anything—anything that hurt you. I don’t remember any of it.”

“You don’t?”

“It isn’t just the amnesia. I  _ can’t _ remember anything when I’m...like...that.”

“Oh,” Jack says quietly. “Why does it happen?”

“Remember how Dr Marks and I were studying hidden strengths, how to tap into them? I had a personal stake in the matter. My wife, Laura, she died in a car crash. I was thrown out of the car, and I was trying to get her out...I couldn’t. I tracked the sudden appearance of previously unknown strength to a change in DNA, which I had, and an increase in gamma radiation from solar flares, which was not present at the time of the crash. So I...” David’s voice falters. He presses a hand to his mouth for a few seconds before continuing. “I accidentally overdosed myself to gamma radiation, and now with any sort of anger, or outrage, or distress, or...”

“You turn into the Hulk?” Jack finishes for him.

David shudders. “That’s why I’m always on the run, why I even let everyone think I had died in the fire at the laboratory.”

“My God,” Jack mutters.

“Jack, please, you have to understand that I didn’t kill anyone,” David says. Now that all his memories are back, and now that Jack  _ knows _ , David can’t stop himself. God, he’s been waiting for someone to talk to the whole time! “Elaina died from her injuries in the fire. She was my closest friend. She just wanted to help me. I wouldn’t have killed her, even...as the Hulk.”

Jack stares in confusion for a few seconds, then slowly, nods.

“Jack...” David sighs, rubs his eyes tiredly, pauses for a few seconds. He doesn’t know how to word the question properly. Stubmling over his words, he ends up asking, “Why do you always follow me?”

Jack hesitates, waving his hand around as he comes up with an answer. “It’s a huge story, David. I want...I want out of the paper.”

“Oh,” David says.

“Writing that story could be the start of a better career,” Jack continues. “Everyone who believes that the Hulk is real would want to know the story behind it, where he came from and all.”

David puts his head in his hands. “I know.”

Then he stands and reaches for his bag left in the corner of the living room. He pulls out a shirt and his last spare pair of shoes. Sighing, he figures he’ll have to go and get more clothes once he gets out of here. If Jack will even let him leave.

“David,” Jack says quietly.

“Look, Jack, I better get going.”

“You don’t have to keep running,” Jack says. “Damn it, David, I thought you were dead for two years! The least you could do is stick around a little longer.”

“I, I really don’t think that’s the best idea,” David murmurs. “I don’t want to wreck your place every time I get a nightmare.”

Sighing, Jack presses a hand to his temple. “Look, David, it’s not that I want you to stay here for the story or anything. To hell with that. I don’t want you getting hurt by people finding out who you are. You’re—you’re probably the only friend I’ve got at this point.”

“I know,” David says, “and I feel much the same way. But I really should be going. If things keep on going the way they were, I’m sure we’ll be able to see each other again.”

“David, at least let me help you,” Jack says. “I can give you money for a bus ticket or some new clothes. I’m sure you go through a good deal of shirts.”

“You’re not wrong,b ut I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“I insist,” Jack says. He pauses. “Maybe you shouldn’t leave before having dinner.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” David points out.

“I’m just saying.”

David  _ does _ want to stay. It’s not every day that he finds a home like this. But he knows it can’t be permanent, not with the situation he’s in. Not with the person who Jack is. At this point David’s even beginning to doubt that he’ll ever find a cure. He’ll just be running, all the time.

God, he’s tired.

And Jack knows it.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” David says, slowly putting his bag back down on the floor. “But I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning no matter  _ what _ you have to say about it, got it?”

Jack holds up his hands. “Fine by me.”

“Can you help me move the couch back?” David asks.

After fixing up the apartment, David decides he’s fine leaving the house with Jack for the time being. They go out shopping for some more clothes that David can bring with him, then some granola bars and bags of trail mix for David to eat while he’s out on the road.

Once they’re done with the supplies, they go out to a restaurant, one that’s fairly casual given that David only has jeans to wear at the moment. David is glad to share some of his awkward travel stories, as well as giving an explanation as to why he has so many jobs. The men almost forget that it’ll all be over the next morning.

And then, suddenly, it is.

Jack wakes up the next morning to find a note left out on the couch, right on top of the folded sheets. It explains that David’s already left for a hospital a few states over, and that he’s sure they’ll meet again.

Sighing, Jack puts it into the pocket of his jacket. Even with the story of his lifetime passed up, he’ll still be following every lead of the Hulk.

The moment any information turns up around that hospital, Jack will be there. He’s sure of it.


End file.
